


your truth is better than ours

by hesperia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperia/pseuds/hesperia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn finds comfort in Benjen during her first few months in Winterfell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your truth is better than ours

Catelyn has been at Winterfell for only a fortnight when Ned announces that he will be leaving Winterfell to tour the North, to thank the houses who had supported him as their liege lord. 

"You have only just come home," Catelyn says, as they sit in the Great Hall, the morning meal before them. "Must you leave so soon?" 

"It will only be for the turn of a moon, my lady," Ned says, and reaches out to cover her hand with his. "I shall be back before you realize I have even gone." 

Catelyn smiles, pleasantly, but she feels the weight of it in her chest, sinking deeper with each breathe. _And will you bring me another bastard when you return? As a child collect rocks or bugs?_ Catelyn wonders sadly, though she knows she must stop from thinking such things, knowing that one day the sadness will turn to bitterness, and all will be beyond saving.

* * *

"Will it ever stop?" Catelyn asks, as she stands in the window of her solar, Robb asleep on her chest. "It has been snowing since Ned left." From the window she strains her eyes to see something, anything, other than the dismal white abyss that has become her home. 

Benjen is sitting in a chair by the fire, warming his hands. It surprises Catelyn, that of all the Stark men, it is Benjen with whom she is most at ease. Though his coloring is like that of his brothers, he is more careful with his words then Brandon, and a smile comes easier to his face then it ever has on Ned. 

"Soon," Benjen says, offering her a hopeful smile, though he has given her that answer for a sennight, and Catelyn grows weary of the word. She places Robb in the cradle, tucking the furs around her small little bundle. She tries pointedly not to think of the other babe in the castle, if he is well-fed, if he is warm. When she looks up at Benjen, his face is melancholy, and Catelyn wonders if he was thinking the same thing.

* * *

The turn of one moon turns into two, and a raven arrives from Last Hearth, speaking of winter winds and drifts like giants, and a fact that Catelyn knew in her heart the moment there was news of the raven. Ned was not coming home, not yet. 

She thanks Benjen for bringing her the missive, lays it carefully on her writing desk when all she truly wants is to rip it in to millions of tiny pieces. She wants to write back and demand he come home, that it is unfair to leave her here, in this cold, lonely place. 

Catelyn does not realize she is weeping until Benjen's hand touches her arm, and she looks up at him with tears in her lashes that fall to her cheeks as she blinks them away. "Forgive me," she says, pressing the edge of her sleeve to her cheeks, wiping the tears away. "I am but tired..." 

"He'll be home soon," Benjen says, and his hand runs up and down her arm, warming her through the wool of her gown. "And you'll be right again." 

Catelyn wishes that she could believe him.

* * *

"Would you take me to your Godswood today?" Catelyn asks Benjen as they sit at the table in the Great Hall. The snow has finally ceased, and while the North still lies under winter's thick blanket, Catelyn feels like the worst has passed. 

"I would be honored, Lady Catelyn," he says, smiling at her through a mouthful of porridge. 

"Please, how many times have I told you that you may call me Cat or Catelyn." 

Benjen blushes slightly, and nods, but he does not correct himself. After they have finished breaking their fast, Catelyn dons her heavy fur cloak and follows Benjen through the yard toward the Godswood. The drifts are thick in the wood, and Catelyn stumbles forward, loosing her footing, but Benjen's hands clamp tight on her waist, catching her and pulling her back against him. They stand like that for a moment in companionable silence, back to front, his hands still on her waist. 

"All right then?" he asks, and Catelyn shivers at the feel of his hot breath against her skin as he stands behind her.

"Y -Yes," she says, stepping out of his grasp, away from him. "I'm fine." 

Benjen tells her the history of the heart trees, of what he knows of their Old Gods, but he does not stand too close and when they walk back to the Keep, he walks ahead, clearing the path as they go.

* * *

Ned arrives home and Catelyn feels something akin to joy when she sees him ride through the gate and into the yard. She runs to him, ignoring the mud that splashes the bottom of her gown, or the fact that it is still too chilly to leave the Keep without a cloak. 

"Catelyn," Ned says, his arms circling her, pulling her into his embrace. "I've missed you." He kisses the top of her head and touches his hand to her cheek, Catelyn tries not to show her disappointment, knows that Ned is not like Brandon was. Brandon who would sweep her into his arms and kiss her mouth, her neck, her cheeks, Brandon who would let his hand graze too long in places he ought not to. 

But Ned was her husband, he could do those things, Catelyn wanted him to do those things. Instead he had kissed her like he would a sister and left her to tend to his horse. It is why she asks him about Ashara Dayne, about Jon, and why when his reaction cuts so deeply, does she find herself standing outside of Benjen's chambers. 

"Catelyn?" Benjen's brow is furrowed when he opens the door to find her standing before him. It is early morn still, the light only just beginning to rise above the horizon. "Is something wrong?" he is only wearing breeches, the strings barely tied as they lie low on his hips. 

"No," Catelyn says, looking down the hall. "Yes. I - I don't know." 

He opens the door wider, rubbing one eye with the palm of his hand. "Do you want to come in?" 

"No, I can't..." Catelyn says, but her eyes betray her and she knows he can see the longing in them before she turns away.

"Cat..." His fingers encircle her wrist, not pulling her toward him, but holding her from leaving. When she turns back toward him, he pulls her close, pulls her body right up next to him so that her free hand is flat against his chest. 

He lets his fingers fall from her wrist and instead slips his arm around her waist. With his other hand he reaches up and slowly traces one finger along the shape of her face, over the curve of her jaw and up over her lips. 

"We can't..." she breathes, barely a whisper between them as he leans closer. She can feel his breath on her mouth, his hand sliding up her back to rest over the back of her neck. Their lips brush so slightly that Catelyn wonders if they've even actually touched. "I can't." she says again, and pushes herself out of his grasp, leaning against the cold stone of the wall as they watch each other, their chests moving rapidly with each hurried breath. 

She does not look back as she makes her way down the hall, not even when she hears his door close, not even when her heart begs her to turn and go back to him, not even then.


End file.
